


Habit

by SelinOriginal



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Compliant, Future Fic, M/M, Near Future, Post-Break Up, Post-Canon, Talk Shows, based on Habit by Louis, come so far from princess park
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-16
Updated: 2019-09-16
Packaged: 2020-10-19 17:22:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20660921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SelinOriginal/pseuds/SelinOriginal
Summary: If there’s one thing Louis Tomlinson believed with his whole heart, it was that fate would always intervene when it came to him and Harry Styles.(Louis watches Harry's post-coming out interview and has Feelings about it. Near-Future Fic. Angst w a happy ending)





	Habit

**Author's Note:**

> HELLO i am posting my first fic ever bc I am obsessed w Habit by Louis after watching endless vids of him performing it live in Madrid and I NEEDED to channel my feelings into something. Note: I do NOT think this will happen/did happen/describes real dynamics of their actual relationship. Also disclaimer that this is fiction. I obvi do not own 1d or Louis Tomlinson or Harry Styles lmao. If I did I'd be a much richer woman and I'd be writing this from a yacht or something

Louis flicked on the TV, squinting as the harsh artificial light suddenly illuminated the pitch black living room. He reached for the packet of crisps he’d left on the coffee table and began to absentmindedly pop them into his mouth as he stared, transfixed, up at the familiar Gucci-suited popstar. 9 pm, right on cue. This was Harry’s first post coming-out TV interview. It was a day they’d always dreamed of, but when he’d imagined it Louis had never pictured himself watching Harry come out from a leather couch in an empty mansion five thousand miles away, eating fucking  _ Pringles _ alone in his pajamas like some sadsack.

The talk show host (one of the American Jimmys; Louis hadn’t bothered to learn which was which) was droning on about Harry’s recently-released second album and asking basic, low-ball questions about the writing process. He touched on Gucci, on what life was like post-One Direction...the usual. Harry was, as always, all polite nods and gracious-yet-cryptic sound bytes that revealed nothing about his true interests or character.

Then, the interviewer asked it: the question Louis had been waiting for. The question he’d had to sit through dozens of meetings with PR strategists to perfectly craft and fine-tune. After Louis’ album had dropped, speculation ramped up more than ever before about the relationship between him and Harry. Through their publicists and labels, they agreed to dodge the Larry question in a particular way--a  _ mutually respectful  _ way, was how Simon Jones PR had phrased it.

If anyone asked, Louis’ album was about Eleanor. “Habit”, the Princess Park line...that was supposed to be about her as far as the media was concerned. It was an extremely stupid cover story. So stupid that Louis genuinely couldn’t understand how the execs at Syco expected anyone to buy the explanation, least of all the fans who he knew would go to the ends of the earth to find evidence that he and Harry were together. Honestly, Louis really didn’t have much of a choice in the matter seeing as he’d unwittingly signed away his right to make decisions for himself at eighteen years old.

Jimmy spoke again: “So, Harry, congratulations on your coming out.” Applause, massive applause. As expected. Louis’ heart soared. He couldn’t help but be proud of Harry underneath all the walls he’d put up, in spite of everything that had happened between them.

Jimmy continued: “That is so great, huge deal, man. I will say, though...there’s been a lot of talk over the years, and especially now that your latest single has come out, about a relationship between you and your One Direction bandmate Louis Tomlinson.”

Several people in the crowd audibly hoot and whistle and are shushed immediately. Others laugh.

“Is there any truth to the rumors?”

Harry’s nostrils flared and his nose twitched. Louis knew it was a telltale sign he was lying--all those years of having to watch Harry’s facial reactions in the monitor behind the camera had taught him to track the slightest change in emotion. He was trying to control his face but was failing. Louis began to run his hand over his trackies absentmindedly, tracing the seam as he fixed his gaze on Harry’s expression.

“Um...” Harry took a long pause and drew in a breath.

_ He’s going to stutter _ , Louis thought.  _ He’s always had trouble swerving direct questions like this _ .

“Um, he, like…uh, obviously, he, um...Louis and I were friends during the band and he was, like, supportive of me. Maybe...maybe I did have a bit of a, uh, crush on him in the early days, but uhhh...no. It’s all, um, mutual respect now though and I wish him the best.”

Louis sucked in a surprised breath at the crush bit and felt a familiar sinking feeling in his stomach. Why, after all these years, did it still hurt when they had to deny things? Shouldn’t that have been trained out of him by now? The hurting? The pain?

Louis scolded himself internally for thinking for a second that Harry had the power to tell the truth here, that he would break the rules in some grand gesture and confess his love on live television or something. After all, as far as the general public knew, Louis Tomlinson was “in fact straight” and also “daddy daddy cool”. He understood that the publicists at Sony had instructed Harry to tell the bogus “crush” story to take the heat off of him and the inevitable combing through their relationship by fans and media alike. By admitting that Harry had a crush on Louis in the past, they could control the headlines and get ahead of the news coverage. But that didn’t mean it didn’t sting. That didn’t mean that the words wouldn’t add salt to a wound that had been festering for ten years.

“Well alright,” Jimmy continued. “Thank you for your honesty. That takes guts, man, proud of you.” Jimmy patted Harry’s shoulder as the audience applauded on cue. “But, Harry, on another note: are there any lucky fellas that have caught your eye? Are you dating anyone right now?”

Louis watched Harry’s face closely. With dread settling in the pit of his stomach, Louis realized that he didn’t actually know the real answer. Not anymore.

Harry sucked in a breath and tapped his chin, pretending to think. The audience laughed, eating it up. Harry always knew how to easily charm a group of people and command a room. Louis’ throat tightened.

“Hmm….” He hummed. “Well, Jimmy…I’ve been, uh, much more honest recently but...I think there’s some parts of my life that have got to stay private. At least, uhh…for now.” Harry turned to the camera and gave a winning smile.

“Alright, Harry Styles everybody!” The host bellowed, the audience giving him a standing ovation as the music played leading into a commercial break.

What Harry did next made Louis very nearly shoot up from his seat on the couch. Harry looked directly into the camera as he stood, deliberately twisting the ring on his right index finger. The peace ring. The very same ring that Louis got him to commemorate both their commitment to one another and their impending pop stardom.

Harry used to do that same ring twist when they would go to industry parties and interviews together and have to communicate with sneaky eyerolls from across the room. Even during the times when Louis had to strain to see Harry in his peripheral vision, knew him by his absence and had to avoid his boyfriend every time they’d brush by one another onstage, Harry would touch the ring as if to say  _ “I’m yours. Only yours.” _ Louis hadn’t even noticed that he was wearing it again tonight; it had been a while.

Harry must have known that Louis was watching. He of all people could never miss Harry’s big post-coming out interview.

_ It’s a message for me _ , he realized. Panic set in.  _ Fuck...what am I supposed to do now? _

Louis resolved to do  _ something _ \--he wouldn’t let this opportunity slip by. Not again. If there’s one thing Louis Tomlinson believed with his whole heart, it was that fate would always intervene when it came to him and Harry Styles. Without thinking, he grabbed his iPhone and opened his contacts, scrolling down to the number he’d simply labeled ‘H’.

“You reek of media training mate” he decided to text, one part of his insides feeling twisted up with the bitterness of their breakup, and the other swelling with pride for his boy, his  _ Hazza _ , taking a huge step and being honest about himself. While he waited for a response, Louis tried to do the deep breathing exercises Harry used to try and have him practice to calm down before shows and events. Louis was failing, as usual.

Harry texted back almost immediately. “Wasn’t sure you were watching”

“Wouldn’t miss it” Louis replied, honest for once.

“Are you home?” Harry texted back.

“Home in london, yeah”

“Okay. thanks for watching lou. X.”

“Course” Louis replied tersely. He threw his phone to the ground and tears pricked at the corners of his eyes. Louis didn’t even know why he was crying, what he was upset about. It was like he had such a deep, visceral reaction whenever Harry was concerned that he couldn’t control himself. His chest seized up whenever someone mentioned Harry’s name, whenever Louis saw his face on the magazine rack at an airport newsstand, whenever Harry appeared in his dreams or popped up in his thoughts throughout the day. Part of him was sewn into Louis’ body forever and there was no changing it.

Louis picked his phone back up off the hardwood, putting his memories back down.

“Wyd tonight mate ?” he texted Oli, intent on going out to drown his sorrows with the lads (or at least on distracting himself for a few hours).

~~~

Nearly five hours passed and Louis’ stomach still churned with unease. He was posted up in his million-thread count sheets or whatever the fuck Lottie had advised him to buy for maximum luxury. He’d tried to get some sleep to no avail, despite the alcohol coursing through his veins. Memories flooded his mind whether he wanted them to or not. For better or worse...that’s how the vow went, right? Richer or poorer. He felt a pang as he remembered all the broken promises between him and Harry, visions of a future together that would surely never come to pass.

His fingers drummed on the plush comforter, absentmindedly craving a cigarette to curb the anxiety. Muscle memory. That, too, was a habit connected to Harry--whenever he’d want to reach out and touch during an interview, whenever he’d had to bite back a snarky response to some intrusive homophobic interviewer or shit record exec, the times he’d had to sit through meetings about his fake baby or endless “vacations” with his fraudulent girlfriends...the cigarettes became a substitute. A crutch. Something to do with his hands to distract from his damning limp wristedness.

Instead of his usual pack of Marlboros, Louis reached for his iPhone. The time was 3:50 am. He scrolled through Twitter for a while and sighed as he read speculative tweet after speculative tweet about his relationship with Harry. ‘#RIPLarryStylinson’ was trending. Louis let out a bitter laugh at that. They didn’t know the half of it.

There was only one person who knew how to take care of him on nights like this, nights when it was all too much to sleep.

He scrolled back through his contacts until he got back to ‘H’ and hit call.  _ Fuck it _ , Louis thought.  _ I’ve already texted him today. Might as well lean into the desperation _ .

The phone rang five or so times and Louis was convinced that Harry was asleep or something despite it being early in LA. Maybe he was sleeping with someone else, in some other man’s bed. Harry might be out clubbing or something with a man who could actually be out and proud with him, give him what he needed. Someone who was capable of opening up, someone who could provide Harry with all the things that Louis lacked.

Then suddenly Louis was snapped out of self-flagellation by Harry’s sleep-heavy voice, which he never tired of hearing.

“‘llo?” Harry croaked out. Louis was silent, letting the surprise that Harry actually answered settle in his body for a minute.

“Haz,” he said softly. An old nickname. Familiar. He surprised himself with that one.

Harry took a pause before speaking carefully. “...Lou.” He sounded more serious, more awake now, like he’d realized why Louis was calling.

“You’ve always been a mind reader,” Louis said softly (and somewhat nonsensically).

“What?”

“Nothing. Anyway, great interview mate. You smashed it.”

“Lou,” Harry sighed. “It’s 4 am in London. Are you really calling me to talk about my interview?” He had a point there.

“Nah, I guess I’m not. I mostly wanted to call tonight because...I saw you wore the ring.”

Harry paused again for almost 30 seconds. Louis had a compulsion to anxiously check to see if Harry had hung up. Finally, Harry spoke.

“I thought loads about my outfit for tonight this week and it didn’t feel right to do the interview, like, without it. Without you.”

Louis didn’t know what to say. He never knew what to say when Harry was honest like this, open and emotional and real. Louis wondered if he’d ever be able to be honest without walling himself off a little and self-protectively leaving things unsaid. Harry took his silence as an invitation to continue.

“Lou, I’m sorry if I’m not...like...if I’m not easy to love, or something.” Harry’s voice got softer at the end. Less confident.

Louis scoffed at that. “Harry...you  _ know  _ that’s never been it. It’s never been about you not being lovable enough, or anything. Loving you has always been the easiest thing in the world for me, and that’s the problem, isn’t it?”

“Yeah. I s’pose it is.”

Neither spoke until Louis dared to break the silence. 

“I’ll, uh, let you get back to your sushi dinner with Jeff or whatever pretentious LA shit you’re up to tonight,” he joked.

Louis could practically hear Harry’s eyeroll from across the Pacific.

“ _ Actually _ ,” Harry corrected. “I’m spending the evening all by my lonesome watching  _ Brokeback Mountain _ .”

“Classic, lad. Classic film. But you can never finish that one without crying, can you?”

“No, I can’t. I always cry. Makes me wish you were here, you’re the only thing that makes it better.”

Louis sucked in a breath. It was all too easy to banter with Harry. Sometimes it almost felt as if things had never gone wrong. At night Louis would roll over and expect to be pressed up against Harry’s warm familiar shape. In his place was the cold vacancy of expensive sheets.

“I’m gonna be in LA next week. For a Syco thing.” Louis started tentatively. “Maybe I could stop by ours—uh, yours. Sorry. I could stop by yours and we could have a proper night in together? Like we used to?”

“I’d love that, Lou. I miss you. I want to see you so much.” Harry was trying to hold back tears, Louis could hear it in his voice.

“I miss you too. I want to talk properly this time when I see you—to, um. To apologize.”

“Okay,” Harry said, sniffling. “I’d like that.”

“Alright, love.” Louis said softly. “Sleep well. We’ll see each other soon.”

After the phone call ended, Louis exchanged his hoodie for a well-loved vintage Rolling Stones t-shirt of Harry’s. It was too big on Louis and he liked it that way. Still smelled like Harry, too. Louis tucked himself back into bed, and this time when he rolled over he knew the space beside him wouldn’t stay empty for long.


End file.
